


They’re Never Going To Know That I Move Like Hell

by notyourmartyr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e20 What Is and What Should Never Be, First Kiss, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, perfectly imperfect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourmartyr/pseuds/notyourmartyr
Summary: That you will be mine, by taking our time.After Dean’s brush with Near Death in a fantasy world that was not quite perfect, he finds that what he was really looking for was right beside him all along.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46
Collections: Every Time We Touch: A First-Time Wincest Fest





	They’re Never Going To Know That I Move Like Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This went completely sideways from my original intentions but sweatergod, I'm in love with it. Please enjoy

_ “I gotta tell you though, man, y’know. You had Jess. Mom was gonna have grandkids.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Yeah, but Dean, it wasn’t real.” _

_ “I know. But I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad. All I can think about is how much this job’s cost us. We’ve lost so much, and we’ve sacrificed so much.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean. It is. It’s not fair, and, you know, it hurts like hell, but it’s worth it.” _   
  
Sam stood, crossing the room to stand in front of Dean, taking a deep breath, “ _ We’re _ worth it.” Dean didn’t have a chance to respond before Sam’s hand cradled his cheek, and his lips brushed lightly over his brother’s. There was so much feeling in just one kiss - grief, for all they’d lost, tendered with relief that Sam had reached him in time, had gotten him back.   
  
And in that moment, it was worth it. Was worth every hardship and loss they had faced. Dean reached up, fingers curling around Sam’s arm as he kissed him again, desperate and needing to be reminded of how real his brother was before him.    
  
It had been the major fatal flaw in the Djinn’s  _ perfect world _ , the one thing that had truly, maddeningly thrown Dean off center - the shovel he had dug with until he’d reached the truth. In gaining his mother back, and Jess for Sam, and even Carmen, he’d  _ lost _ Sam. Sam had been the most important thing in Dean’s life for so long - the center of his universe - that he’d been unable to forget it, unable to face a world, however otherwise perfect, where they were at odds.    
  
The second kiss broke, and Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead against Sam’s, still not releasing his arm. His voice broke around his words as he spoke, “You brought me back.” Everyone else had something to offer him there - Mary safety and comfort, Carmen the prospect of a future with a family, and Jess. It had been Jess’s offering coupled with Sam’s distance that had steadied his resolve. She’d said he wouldn’t have to worry about Sam anymore but how could he not? With what he knew, with the knowledge that things were creeping around just outside their sphere of Utopia?    
  
How could he watch Sam get on a plane and go back to his perfect California life, and leave Dean in the dust? 

Sam chuffed - that half-laugh he was so prone to when Dean said something that maybe wasn’t ridiculous, but so serious and final that it left him without words. “Dean,  _ you saved me _ just as much as I saved you back there. If you hadn’t had the strength, we’d both have been trapped in those  _ near perfect worlds _ without anyone looking for us.”   
  
He didn’t want to imagine what Sam would have wished for, but at the same point, curiosity loosened his tongue, “What would you have wished for, Sammy?”   
  
Sam smiled, bright and beautiful and sure, and Dean was certain that he’d tell him Jess, law school, the other side of the coin to Dean’s own dream, but instead, he leaned in closer, voice soft and reassuring, “This.” His lips found Dean’s again, slow and as clear a message as there could be, one hand still cradling Dean’s face while the other slid up under Dean’s shirt, pressing higher and higher with a purpose until it nestled over Dean’s heart, feeling the rise and fall of his brother’s chest. The kiss wasn’t fully broken when he spoke again, lips barely moving enough to form words against Dean’s, “I love you. Always have.”

And something in Dean broke - some wall he’d had in place for ages, one fortified with every harsh word, every fight, every time Sam had walked away - and he pushed closer, hand sliding up Sam’s arm to his shoulder and gripping there, while the other mirrored Sam, sliding up and under shirts to rest over his brother’s heart, aching at the feel of warm skin under his own. 

It was as if everything else had fallen away, in this moment with his brother, with a confession Dean had never thought he’d hear, had guarded himself from the pain of never having it. Another kiss, fumbling hands and stumbling feet, unwilling to be parted for longer than it took to tug shirts over heads, and then his hands had no real hold, flesh and firm muscles less yielding than soft fabric, so they fell lower, searching for purchase. It wasn’t until he fell back into the bed with Sam over him that he paused, fingers curled around the waist of Sam’s pants, staring up at his little brother with love and wonder that he asked, “Is this real?”   
  
Because what if it wasn’t? What if it was another dream constructed by the Djinn? What if he’d failed to save Sam from its clutches, and they were tied up together, Dean’s  _ new _ wish of keeping Sam warping and shaping - twisting with the deeply buried desire. The spiral of thoughts almost caused him to miss the faint smirk to Sam’s lips as his brother leaned down, kissing along his jaw and down his neck until there was a jolt of pain that simmered into pleasure. “Hey!”   
  
Sam laughed, near doubled over with it, before he leaned up to soothe at the faint mark his bite had left, murmuring, “Does it feel real?”   
  
He nodded, shifting until he could kiss Sam again, shuddering under his brother’s touch as the tone shifted, Sam becoming more possessive with every passing second, spurred on by the yielding compliance of Dean’s body.    
  
Dean’s hands moved of their own accord, working Sam’s pants open and sliding in the loosened fabric, caressing and groping every forbidden inch he could, earning soft sounds muffled in their kisses and a roll of hips onto his. “Fuck, Dean we don’t -  _ I don’t have lube _ .”   
  
His head fell back against the bed with a groan of frustration, before he shifted, “Okay, so we add that to the grocery list, Sam.” He squeezed his brother’s ass again, hips rolling up to meet Sam’s, “But priority  _ numero uno _ is that these jeans are getting too damn tight.”    
  
Another press of lips to his neck was followed by a soft laugh, and Sam’s roving hands finally settled long enough to get Dean’s own jeans open, more sure and direct than Dean’s own as he shoved them down around his thighs before palming his brother, “Yeah?” Dean’s moan was cut off by Sam’s lips reclaiming his own, this kiss more heated than even their last. They moved together, Sam’s pants falling lower the more Dean touched, and finally he pulled back, shaking his head as he moved to stand again.    
  
Dean unconsciously reached out to keep his brother close, sitting up on his elbows. He was about to ask if something was wrong when the rest of Sam’s clothes hit the floor, followed unceremoniously by his jeans being tugged the rest of the way off - and if he squawked awkwardly at the jolting movement no one was going to say anything - before Sam was over him again, hands sliding along newly bared skin, fingers tracing the faint lines of scars on their way up.   
  
His legs drew up on unspoken command as Sam finished undressing him, kissing again as their skin brushed. Sam’s fingers teased his length and his lips parted in another moan, inviting Sam’s tongue into his mouth as his brother began to stroke.    
  
He wanted to tell him to stop, afraid that years of fantasies and current weakness would leave him finish too soon, but wanted to tell him to never stop in the same turn, nerves alight with pleasure as his own hands moved over Sam’s skin, mapping out known scars and plains of muscle in a new light. He would forever deny the whimper that pressed itself into Sam’s lips as his brother did stop, but only to still one of Dean’s own and draw it to his neglected, aroused cock. He got the picture fairly quickly, and had just begun to stroke when Sam returned to his own work, their hands keeping rhythm with one another.   
  
The purr of the air conditioning, hum of the television and lights seemed drowned out by the beating of their hearts as one, the panting of their breaths and the soft sounds of pleasure. Easing out of the kiss, Sam watched Dean’s face, smiling down at him softly, “I love you.”   
  
Any other time Dean might tease him - so many times in so few minutes. No chick flick moments - but it was hard to get his brain on line with Sam’s sure and skilled hand drawing him closer to completion, a living fantasy hovering over him. And maybe he wanted to hear it. Maybe Sam could say it a million times and it would never be enough. His thumb brushed over the head of Sam’s cock and he chuckled at the way his brother broke, voice a low purr that sounded too confident for the way Sam was breaking him apart, “Yeah, Sammy?” He shifted up, kissing along Sam’s jaw as their pace increased, hips twitching and sounds growing louder. “Me too.” 

Sam’s hips stuttered and his grip tightened as he came, coating Dean’s hand in his release, a low sound caught in the back of his throat. Dean watched, his brother’s pleasure driving him over the edge as well, clinging to Sam in desperation, before falling back to the bed and tugging him down with him. They lay there, panting for a few moments, before Sam began to get up, Dean attempting to keep him down, “Dude, we’re a mess.”    
  
Dean rolled his eyes but let him up, stretching, “Yeah, yeah, Martha Stewart. Hurry up.”   
  
Sam returned with a damp washcloth, cleaning Dean with some care, before tossing it aside and curling back up next to his brother, kissing him again, “Next time, I’m going to have lube, and I’m going to take you apart slowly.”   
  
Dean sighed softly, settling back with a soft tease, “Are you sure this is real?”   
  
Sam smacked his thigh, teeth nipping at his ear lobe, “Why do you keep asking that?”   
  
Dean shifted, kissing Sam gently, “Because  _ this _ is perfect.”


End file.
